


The Quidditch Seeker

by rmeij



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9415487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmeij/pseuds/rmeij
Summary: Draco Malfoy has spent his life being molded into the perfect Pureblood son. He's also spent his life trying so hard to become the greatest Quidditch Seeker of all time.8 years of intensive training has molded him into just that.However, he had a weakness. There was one person that stops him from catching the snitch and winning the match for his team, and that person was Harry Potter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of the previous version. The Drarry is kind of lowkey but hey I'm trying a new style of writing and I hope you enjoy!

He thought it was unfair that Potter became Seeker after McGonagall saw him blatantly break the rules.  
  
That day, he got detention.  
  
Rumours fly around saying that he bought his way into the team, but he didn’t. He tried out. Flint was blown away by his performance. Who wouldn’t be?  
  
He goes to training every Summer and Coach Brankovitch has trained him well over the years. No one in Hogwarts except for Blaise Zabini knows that he’s been given an offer to play for Puddlemore United at the age of 15. He had to refuse, of course, his father would never approve. The team promised to keep the offer open just in case he changes his mind; he was a prodigy, after all.  
  
Draco Malfoy was a professional level Seeker, always have been, always will be since he started training at the raw age of 11. His trainer is the brother of Maximus Brankovitch, Aleksey Brankovitch, retired Seeker of the Canadian National Quidditch team. His coach has been whipping him into shape since the day he turned 11. He was his birthday gift, since his parents knew how much he loved the sport. He became very good for his age at 12, and Marcus Flint took him in the Slytherin team because he caught the snitch in record time. Marcus Flint didn’t know that the only reason why he did was because his weakness was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Draco Malfoy had a weakness, and no one other than Blaise Zabini knows who it is.  
  
Every time the Slytherin team plays against the Gryffindor team, Draco Malfoy slowed himself down, because he loved seeing the smile on Harry Potter’s face every time he catches the snitch.  
  
-  
  
It was imperative to note that love comes in all different shapes and sizes. Draco loved Blaise as a friend, Draco loved Aleksey as a superior, Draco loved Potter because he did. He never really noticed it, but Potter’s laugh and crooked smile fuelled his desire to one day be on the same pitch as the other again, chasing the same objective for their respective teams, and succumbing to the joy in Oliver Wood’s cheers due to the Gryffindor Victory that inevitably happens.  
  
Well, inevitably, because Draco stopped a mere millisecond before Potter could catch the snitch.  
  
The crowd roared, cheering Potter’s name, and inside, Draco did as well. He tried to hide his smile as Potter grinned at the snitch in his hands. He did successfully, like he always did.  
  
Granted, Flinch will kill him later in the locker room, but that smile, that small is always worth it. After nearly 4 years of playing competitive Quidditch, it still is.  
  
-  
  
Harry Potter never really watches other Quidditch matches, considering he’s always either in detention or having to catch up on homework, which means he’s never seen Draco Malfoy perform as an unbeatable Seeker. Sometimes matches would last only minutes after Malfoy catches the snitch, sometimes it wouldn’t.  
  
Draco Malfoy was the reason why the Slytherin team made it to the finals.  
  
Draco Malfoy was also the reason why the Slytherin team lost the cup to Gryffindor.  
  
-  
  
Draco had to quit the team in fifth year, but he never quit practicing with Coach Brankovitch.  
  
The man was like an older brother to him, even after he got marked, the first thing the older man did was not judge him, but teach him how to ice skate.  
  
He loved every second of it.  
  
-  
  
Draco not being on the team made it impossible for the Slytherin team to get into the finals.  
  
Potter started dating Ginevra.  
  
Draco had to study for his OWLs.  
  
-  
  
After the war, it was difficult for him to stay invisible. The mark on his forearm was his defining feature. He was tainted. Puddlemore withdrew their offer.  
  
His parents were in Azkaban, and because of this, he had no more extra money to pay for Brankovitch. He was devastated.  
  
“You can call me anytime _, Zmey_ ,” his Coach smiled, “Don’t stop playing, you’re very good and I don’t want you giving up like last time.”  
  
“I don’t want you to go,” Draco whispered in the man’s arms, holding him tight, refusing to let go.  
  
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured the blond, “You, on the other hand, are about to miss your train. I’ll see you in the summer, Draco. I promise.”  
  
-  
  
He sat with Blaise Zabini in the great hall, ignoring the whispers and chatter of the younger Slytherins who despised the both of them for having the guts to show up.  
  
“I heard Brankovitch is taking up Wizarding figure skating,” Zabini starts, “I didn’t know that it was a sport.”  
  
Draco shrugged, “I’m glad he has something to do other than be my father’s assistant while I’m gone.”  
  
“You still train with him?”  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
“Are you going to try for the Eighth Year team? McGonagall thinks it’s great for house unity, so they’re mixing all the houses into A and B teams that will compete during the season. It’s Slytherin-Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff-Gryffindor?”  
  
“I’d rather not go against Potter again,” Draco mumbled into his tea.  
  
Zabini groaned, “The war is over, Draco!”  
  
_Easy for you to say,_ Draco thought, _you weren’t tainted._  
  
-  
  
Draco laid on the Quidditch pitch, expecting to be alone.  
  
He liked looking at the clouds, they reminded him of flight. How airy it felt, how freeing it was, how great it was. The rush, the screams, the beat, the victory.  
  
Everything ran through him like a harsh, tidal wave of nostalgia.  
  
The clouds also reminded him of Coach Brankovitch. Well, Alex, now, considering he smacked him in the head the last time he called him by his surname.  
  
His coach reminded him of Uncle Regulus, in a way. His dark hair and striking silver eyes always shone bright whenever he smiled. He was extremely tall, taller than Draco, but that’s the thing with Russian men, even though Alex is not fully Russian.  
  
Alex had a bad habit of dying his hair, which unsettled Draco because he’s always liked the dark hue contrasting his icy skin. It was silver the last time he saw it, kind of matches his eyes.  
  
“Malfoy?”  
  
He froze.  
  
_Potter._  
  
“I was just leaving.”  
  
Potter raised his eyebrow, “You were lying down in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.”  
  
“Well, I was planning to leave,” Draco lied, “I was just waiting for the right moment.”  
  
Draco refused to look into Potter’s green hues. Every time he glances at them, it brings him back to the day when he saw him with Ginevra. It also brings him to the day that he nearly killed him in the lavatory, but that day was understandable.  
  
He and Ginevra were different. Ginevra looked rather satisfied whenever they were together. Harry always looked like he was madly in love. He hated it.  
  
But Ginevra was pretty. She still is pretty. She’s gorgeous. Draco would possibly give up his line of suitors for her. Maybe. He might not.  
  
Draco was conventionally attractive, he knew that. His parents prided him for his looks. He had his mother’s eyes, and his father’s bone structure. He had his grandfather’s soft, slightly wavy locks, but his grandmother’s diamond flecked irises. He was taught at a young age to straighten his back, his hair, and his gaze.  
  
He was taught in Quidditch to be free, and to flow with the air.  
  
Potter’s eyes are the perfect shade of emerald. He recalled Snape calling it similar to a woman named Lily, someone he presumed was Potter’s mother. He used to fool himself into thinking that his silvery eyes would compliment the other’s gaze, but it did the opposite. It took him back to his last Quidditch match in fifth year, where he locked his eyes straight into Potter’s and caught the snitch in under three minutes.  
  
Draco got up to leave. It was time for him to do his Charms essay.  
  
-  
  
Draco liked his glasses, he reckons it adds character to the sculpted perfection that his parents have created. Alex picked it out for him at a muggle optometrist, claiming that he should try them instead of using the little amounts of money he had left to pay for eyesight charms.  
  
He wanted contact lenses, the optometrist chuckled at him before handing Alex Draco’s prescription.  
  
Her name was Val Summers. She thought his coach’s accent was adorable.  
  
Alex is strongly Canadian.  
  
He was waiting for Granger, which was ironic considering she despised the fact that Malfoy was assigned to tutor her for her N.E.W.T’s.  
  
They have the same Professor for Ancient Runes. She was uncharacteristically failing.  
  
“For the record, Malfoy, my skills in this subject are far more superior than yours.”  
  
Draco nodded along to her babble. He felt like she needed this, to tell Draco that he was worth less than the dirt underneath her shoes.  
  
“Also, glasses? Really, Malfoy? A muggle brand? Are you trying to get me to like you? Because you are not-“  
  
“I need them to see,” Draco defended himself, “I can’t afford eyesight charms anymore. Babbling said you needed help with chapter five.”  
  
Granger stopped talking after that.  
  
-  
  
The more stranger things that had happened in his Eighth year of Hogwarts was not the fact that Headmistress McGonagall decided to force the Eighth years to be in joint Quidditch teams, but the fact that Ronald Weasley befriended a Slytherin.  
  
Theodore Nott, to be exact, but Theo was one of the less extreme ones, so it doesn’t really count. Plus, he looked like Potter from the back, so Draco presumes that the only reason why Weasley is friends with Theo was because he’s probably mistaken him for Potter beforehand.  
  
Theo and Ronald’s friendship took the house by storm, considering Theo generally only talks to Draco, sometimes Blaise, but never if unnecessary. It was also strange, since Ronald’s friendship with Theo has forced Draco to interact with the redhead whenever Theo promises to help him with his Arithmancy.  
  
He never does. Weasley distracts him.  
  
Draco wants a friendship like theirs, something unlike any other, considering Weasley despised all Slytherins before he met Theo. It was kind of like they were destined for each other; soulmates, even.  
  
But Draco didn’t deserve that.  
  
Draco was a Death Eater.  
  
Draco deserves everything less.  
  
-  
  
Draco was by himself, playing with the golden snitch on the bleachers. The snitch was special to him, it was the first one he ever caught. Alex got it engraved with ‘Puddlemore’s Greatest’ written underneath his name. He’s always liked the team, and he’d be lying if declining the offer did not break his heart, even more so when they withdrew it moments after his trials. It was like a stab in the gut that they twisted, Draco was penned as the prodigy they spat out when they saw the tattoo and the baggage that comes along with him. Draco didn’t mind, as long as no one knew.  
  
He didn’t have an array of options waiting for him after his graduation. He was thinking of maybe doing something Muggle. Get Alex to get him an NHS and a mobile that does something other than SMS and call. But deep down, he wanted to do something Wizarding. He wanted to be in Puddlemore. He wanted to play Quidditch.  
  
Sometimes his decisions are bad in good ways, because if he wasn’t on the bleachers, he wouldn’t have noticed the smell of grass and cheap aftershave on the tip of his nose.  
  
-  
  
Draco realised that maybe he should join the Eight year team. Well, he didn’t realise. Alex found out that he wasn’t playing. The man bombarded him with questions, asking him why he decided to stop himself from doing something that he loved through his fire call.  
  
“You didn’t get scouted, big deal! Quidditch is your life, _Zmey!_ Stop letting your insecurities dictate how you live your life.”  
  
Draco sighed deeply.  
  
-  
  
“I heard Malfoy’s playing Seeker again,” Dean laughed, “What do you think, Harry? Reckon he’s going to fuck up like he did in the good old days?”  
  
Ron shrugged, “He caught the Snitch that one match we had. Did it in under three minutes.”  
  
“That was lucky,” Seamus frowned, “He’s never caught the snitch in any Slytherin-Gryffindor match. He did on other matches because the Seekers were absolute shite, but never in a match that actually mattered.”  
  
“He broke a school record.”  
  
“I bet Harry could do the same.”  
  
“No,” Harry said sternly, “He cheated.”  
  
“No, he didn’t,” Ron argued.  
  
“Why are you siding with him?”  
  
Ron shrugged, “I’m not siding on anyone, I knew he didn’t cheat,”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, “Just because you’re buddy-buddy with the Slytherins now, doesn’t mean you can side with bloody Malfoy.”  
  
Ron sighed, “Just because you don’t like Malfoy, doesn’t mean you can accuse him of cheating.”  
  
-  
  
Malfoy became Seeker for the Falcons, which consisted of two Ravenclaws, three Hufflepuffs, and Ron Weasley, representing Gryffindor. He’d never thought that he’d be placed in a team with Weasley, but then again, it’s better than being in a team with the twins. He knew Ron didn’t hate him as much as he did before, and he’s the only one in the red house that has not accused him of cheating.  
  
Minerva McGonagall decided that she’d rather have four intra-house teams rather than two, so she took four seekers from each house, at least, the ones who signed up to be on the team, several keepers and chasers, and randomly sorted them into four teams, the Falcons, the Candors, the Hawks, and the Kestrels.  
  
First match of the season was with the Hawks, and Draco was nowhere near as nervous as he was during his first match. It was more like when the scouting coaches were watching him during his fourth year; he wasn’t nervous because his coach was there in the crowd, but he was because what he does in the match could make or break him.  
  
He locked eyes with Dean Thomas right before their match, the boy had a cocky grin, considering the team was majorly Gryffindor, with four out of seven players representing the house, with Harry Potter as Seeker.  
  
As soon as the match starts, he gave a thumbs up to the general direction of Weasley, or what he thought was Weasley, considering everything was blurry.  
  
He took a deep breath in his royal blue uniform, before tightening his grip, waiting for the referee to release the snitch.  
  
-  
  
As soon as he heard Jordan from the speakers, he immediately locked his eyes on his target. The snitch was taunting him. Taunting them.  
  
Potter was confident that Draco would go without a fight, just like he always did, but not today, and maybe not ever in the future.  
  
Draco zoomed towards the snitch, closing his eyes and imagining that he was lighter than a feather. He felt himself getting faster and faster, ignoring the commentator’s claims that he got himself a new broom that was not appropriate for Quidditch, or that somehow he’s using a charm to get faster.  
  
He counted seconds in his mind, he was on the first minute mark, he needed to go faster, maybe just a little bit.  
  
He could feel the rush in the air, almost as if the pressure was non-existent. He blocked the chants away from his ears, and before he knew it, the match was done.  
  
The crowd fell silent as Draco lowered down, snitch in hand, panting and coughing as he tried to adjust the air in his lungs. He was out of breath.  
  
That manoeuvre, it used to be the signature move of the Brankovitch Brothers. Alex taught him how to do it in theory, and he’s never done it in practice before. It was the move that nearly cost him his Quidditch career, but elevated Max’s. It was a dangerous move, that involved mentally tricking the body into thinking that you were as light as air, thus making you move faster.  
  
It could’ve cost him both of his lungs.  
  
he was glad it worked.  
  
“Unbelievable! Draco Malfoy catches the Snitch with 30 seconds to spare on his previous record time!” Lovegood announced, making the crowd fell silent. “Isn’t that wonderful, Lee? I can see the Flastergarbles around him.”  
  
“T-that brings the t-total to a 170-11,” Jordan stammered, “The Falcons… win?”  
  
Malfoy carefully unmounted from his broom and chucked the snitch at Potter’s flabbergasted face. Accidentally.  
  
Everything was still blurry.  
  
He needed his glasses.  
  
-  
  
The matches that followed ended with the Falcons winning every time, and due to the fast pace of the overall games, the matches never lasted more than 20-30 minutes. Malfoy was unstoppable, with unbelievable flight skills; his near perfect manoeuvre combined with his unbelievable speed made the team unbeatable. The Chasers and Beaters were good as well, but none of them were ‘Malfoy’ good, which astonished Harry to the point where he wondered why Malfoy didn’t perform that well whenever he played during the days he was on the Slytherin team.  
  
He did notice, however, that he slowed down when he played against the Candors, which was Ginny’s team, but only slightly.  
  
But that didn’t change the fact that the Falcons won almost every single game in the season in under 30 minutes.  
  
He was lucky they were only halfway into the season.  
  
-  
  
Draco didn’t watch any of the other matches, considering he was not a fan of any of the other teams.  
  
Well, he refused to be. The Hawks had Harry Potter, the Candors had Ginevra Weasley, and the Kestrels were generally not good. He’d rather spend his times with Ronald and Theodore as they blatantly flirted with each other in the library.  
  
Draco wonders what Granger feels about her boyfriend being friendly with Theodore Nott. Granted, Theo was easy on the eyes. Raven hair, hazel eyes, strong cheek bones balanced out with a rather mediocre jawline, unlike Draco, who was sharp in every angle. Theo had rather nice hair as well, so he’s practically perfect.  
  
But, then again, maybe Granger and Weasley are no longer dating. Maybe it’s because he’s chummy with the Slytherins that she decided to dump his arse and date someone that actually deserves her and her superiority. Maybe Goldstein or that other boy from Hufflepuff.  
  
Draco frankly does not care.  
  
Ever since he’s been assigned to tutor Granger in Ancient Runes, she’s been less hostile. All she needed was extra latin lessons, and after a couple of sessions, she was no longer uncharacteristically failing.  
  
It was nice to finally get her out of his hair. Pretty nice as well to not have a person stare at him and his Versace frames. He knew he looked like those televised ‘nerds’ on those muggle shows. He blames his coach for choosing his frames. He wanted the ones that had little triangles on the side so he could look like a cat.  
  
Or the clubmasters. He’d love to look like a 1960’s gangster.  
  
Theo and Ronald had a bad habit of blatantly flirting right in front of Draco. It used to be infuriating, but after a while he got used to it. He knew that there was no way Theo and Ronald would actually be together. First of all, despite his bisexuality, Theo would not go for Ronald. He’s much into the rugged type. Maybe Charles.  
  
Although he did fancy his coach once, and Alex had a similar built to Ronald. He’s much slimmer now, since he’s switching to figure skating out of all the sports.  
  
But Ronald liked to hug Theo from behind and tickle him randomly, as everyone in the Slytherin house knew that young Theodore had two weaknesses, which both start with the letter ’T’.  
  
Tickles and toffee, everyone knows, everyone uses this to their advantage.  
  
Blaise prefers tickling the information out of the young Theodore. Draco prefers giving him a piece of toffee because he liked seeing the boy’s hazel eyes light up whenever he gets a piece.  
  
Of course, both boys would never let him keep candy in his robe pocket. It was disastrous when he did. He kept eating it in potions and nearly exploded the whole classroom because he almost dropped one into a potion.  
  
“Ronald,” Theo whispered, “Potter just took a seat across from us. Let go.”  
  
“But you smell like toffee,” Ron frowned, “I know you’ve got some in your pocket. I refuse to let go until you give me some.”  
  
Draco sighed, Theodore always smells like toffee. It’s strange. He bets that if someone were to have feelings for the brunet, their amorentia would smell exactly like toffee. Taking out a piece of toffee from his robe pocket, Draco looked at Ronald and calmly said, “Theo doesn’t carry around sweets because he eats them all in seconds. Here.”  
  
Ronald raised his eyebrow at Draco’s sudden gift, “Is this poisoned?”  
  
Draco shrugged, “Theo had 20, so if it was, he would be dead.”  
  
Ronald chuckled, earning a ginormous ‘Shush!’ from Madame Pince.  
  
Draco turned his head and saw Potter shift his eyes back to the book that he was reading. Draco frowned, considering there was no way Harry Potter had a bit of interest in Wizarding law, or had the slightest ability to read upside down. He was stalking him. Or, maybe Ronald, but that was beside the point.  
  
Harry Potter was reading an upside down book about Wizarding Law right across from his table with Theo and Ronald.  
  
Draco shut his book and walked towards the general direction of where he took it.  
  
He wandlessly conjured a note in the shape of a crane to make sure Theo knew that he was leaving.  
  
-  
  
He plopped down next to Blaise, who gave him the most venomous glare. Blaise decided to not join any of the four teams on his last year of schooling, so Draco knew that he wasn’t angry because of his team losing.  
  
“Potter and his golden gang thinks you cheated.”  
  
“I didn’t,” he retorted back, “Stop looking at me like that, Theo and Ronald were getting worse with their PDA and I want to do my work in peace.”  
  
Blaise sighed, “How’s your Defence?”  
  
“Shit. Rolfe thinks I need to partner up with someone to get better. He also always marks me as absent because of the glasses. Might ask the Headmistress if I can get my picture updated for the register.”  
  
Blaise nodded along, “You’re in a class with Pans, right?”  
  
Draco nearly burst, “I’d rather not.”  
  
“Daphne?”  
  
“Thinks I’m a douchebag, next.”  
  
“Millie?”  
  
“Pans, next.”  
  
“Cornfoot? Malone?”  
  
“I dated Stephen in fourth year,” Draco shrugged, “Malone thinks Daphne doesn’t want to date him because she fancies me.”  
  
“…you know who the last person on the list is.”  
  
“Honestly, I’d rather partner with Pansy and she despises me.”  
  
“Draco, he’s not that bad.”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes, “He threw a hissy fit right after the Falcons beat his team.”  
  
“He’s good at Defence.”  
  
“Only because he’s going to get scouted into the Aurors right after he gets his NEWT’s,” Draco muttered, “I’ll ask Rolfe to pick someone. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”  
  
Blaise rolled his eyes, “Fifty Galleons say he pairs you up with-“  
  
“Shut the fuck up!”  
  
-  
  
Draco hated the Falcons’ blues. He really did. The colour looks atrocious. He’d rather wear their old uniform which was an old, spare Ravenclaw uniform from the equipment shed.  
  
They were doing practice drills, and Draco had no one to practice with. When he was in Slytherin, Flint would be the one who did Seeker drills with him. Now, since no one in the team is his friend, well apart from Ronald, but he barely counts, he had no one to practice with.  
  
The blond sat on the bleachers, twirling his engraved golden snitch in between his fingers. Their captain, Oliver Rivers, was too busy yelling at the Hufflepuffs to notice that Draco wasn’t on the pitch.  
  
Draco liked Rivers. He looked like he had dark hair, but in reality, his hair was forest green. He respected the boy for having an unnatural hair colour. It suited him, in a way. Matched his more-green-than-brown hazel eyes.  
  
He’s a quite strange boy, tall built, rather skinny with olive skin and green hair. He’d never picture him as captain, but then again, he couldn’t picture Flint as captain either, but he was up until his graduation.  
  
He missed Marcus Flint; the boy was nice to him, even though he’s rough and angry with everyone most of the time.  
  
“Where’s Malfoy?” he heard the green haired boy scream, “Weasley! Where’s Malfoy?”  
  
Draco noticed that the yelling stopped, he also locked eyes with the green haired boy’s more-green-than-brown hazel eyes. They looked venomous, like the boy was ready to kill. But then again, maybe it’s because he’d just finished yelling at the Hufflepuffs.  
  
“What are you doing?” the boy asked, his thick, Manchester accent mixing with his overall anger sounded more venomous as he glared straight into Draco’s silver orbs.  
  
“Practicing,” he mumbled in response, “Sorry I wasn’t on the pitch, I just-“  
  
“Well, you’re one of the top players, no need to sound so nervous,” Rivers smiled, “Be on the pitch next time, okay, Malfoy?”  
  
He didn’t expect him to be so nice, either.  
  
-  
  
“How’s ice dancing, Alex?” he asked his Canadian coach.  
  
_“Horrible, my feet are killing me,”_ the older man whined into the telephone, _“How’s Quidditch, Zmey?”_  
  
“You know, you really need to start calling me something other than Zmey,” Draco grumbled, “How about Draco? It means the same thing, and it’s in English!”  
  
He heard the older man chuckle, _“It’s Greek, not English.”_  
  
Draco groaned, “Well, what if I call you Lex? How would that make you feel?”  
  
_“I wouldn’t mind, people used to call me Lex back in College. Some called me Vitcci but that’s because they overheard one of Max’s insults.”_  
  
Draco groaned, “That’s not the point.”  
  
_“There is no point. Tell me. Quidditch.”_  
  
Draco was about to say something when he heard the door open. He paused and listened in to make sure that it was someone that knew about his coach so he could ramble on about how people were significantly nicer to him ever since he stopped letting Potter catch the snitch.  
  
Well, he did stop on his last game as a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but that’s beside the point.  
  
_“Draco?”_  
  
He looked around, sighing in relief when he found that no one was there.  
  
“Sorry, it’s been great,” Draco smiled.  
  
-  
  
“I’ve been doing quite well, used that technique we practiced for the first game and broke my initial school record,” Harry heard Malfoy say into a… Wait, is that a cellphone?  
  
Draco Malfoy owns a muggle phone. Draco Malfoy is using a muggle phone. Draco Malfoy is using a muggle phone to talk to someone about Quidditch.  
  
“I know you said that I shouldn’t use it in a game, but-“  
  
He can’t believe his eyes. Well, and ears. Draco Malfoy is using a muggle cellphone to talk to someone who apparently taught him how to practically apparate without apparating.  
  
“Stop yelling at me, you’re the one who taught me the technique in the first place.”  
  
Who is this person, and why is Malfoy so respectful and nice to him?  
  
“Second and third game was great as well. We’ve advanced to the finals and our Headmistress gave us uniforms. The shade of blue she chose is absolutely atrocious. I would send you a photo, but I can’t because I don’t want to break the camera.”  
  
Harry knew that eavesdropping on Malfoy was a bad idea, but he was beyond curious. How did Malfoy and his team win every single Quidditch game?  
  
Ron assured him that Malfoy did not cheat, but how could he believe him? Ron’s been all touchy feely with that Nott kid when he clearly has a girlfriend whom he’s supposed to love and care for.  
  
“I might need a new prescription, would it be okay for you to send a letter to school saying that I needed to get a check up?”  
  
Prescription?  
  
“I’m not lying, my glasses are blurry again.”  
  
Glasses?  
  
“Yes, I have tried cleaning it. It doesn’t work.”  
  
“Maybe you should try using a cleaning charm,” Harry muttered, making Malfoy stop his phone call. Shit. Shit. _Shit._  
  
He could see the headlines, Harry Potter, idiot of the year, decides to spy on Draco Malfoy and gets caught because he’s a fucking moron.  
  
“I have to go now, Potions essay.”  
  
-  
  
Harry felt like a failure. He spied on Malfoy just so he could get an insight on how he managed to become that good in Quidditch and all he found was that Malfoy had a cell, glasses, and a person he talks to about Quidditch, which could possibly Lucius, but who knows?  
  
Maybe there was another way, another way for him to know how Malfoy got so good.  
  
Harry smiled, he knew what to do.  
  
-  
  
Draco hated school.  
  
All he wanted was to finish, but he had to go back to Sixth year where someone decides to spy on him.  
  
~~It’s probably Potter.~~  
  
_Don’t get your hopes up, Malfoy._  
  
-  
  
Harry Potter had finally figured out why Draco Malfoy has won every single match he played with the Falcons.  
  
One, he had Oliver Rivers as captain.  
  
Rivers was an amazing bloke who believed in him and chose him over Ginny and Harry because he knew Draco had potential. He asked Rivers why he chose Draco over Ginny, since Draco was a total asshat who didn’t care about people other than himself. To which he responded with a laugh.  
  
“Draco Malfoy is a reserved blond kid with glasses who happens to be really good at Quidditch,” Rivers explained, “I’ve been watching him play ever since I started playing Chaser for Ravenclaw. He knows what he’s doing, even though sometimes he stops himself when he plays against you.”  
  
Harry nodded along, sipping his butter beer as he did so, “Why did you watch him?”  
  
Rivers shrugged, “Well, he dated my best friend, first off. So I had to.”  
  
Harry nearly choked, what the fuck?!  
  
“Stephen Cornfoot, you might know him. He's a fellow Ravenclaw, slightly shorter than me, auburn hair,” Rivers chuckled, “They dated in Fourth year all the way to the end of Fifth year. Draco had to keep it a secret at first so he was devastated when he told Stephen that he had to go to the Yule Ball with Pansy to keep his cover. They did leave together, though.”  
  
Harry looked at him, confused, “Isn’t Stephen a-“  
  
“Yes, he fought against the Death Eaters, but that’s why they broke up,” Rivers explained, “He wouldn’t accept that Draco had to be Marked to save his family. He regrets it now, of course, but he can’t do anything to change it.”  
  
“Look, Potter,” Rivers started, “Draco’s doing really well right now, and I’d hate it if something happened to make him shut down. He’s such a good guy, he didn’t treat Stephen like shit when they were out, and he can be really nice when he tries. I don’t think what you’re doing is right. Unless you actually like him, of course.”  
  
Oops, he forgot he asked Rivers for butter beer because he told him he liked Malfoy romantically.  
  
“I-What?” Harry laughed nervously, “What makes you think so?”  
  
Rivers shrugged, “The fact that you went to me, Captain of the Falcons, to get dirt on Draco Malfoy. And the fact that Draco being my best friend’s ex makes you slightly uncomfortable.”  
  
Two, he had Aleksey Brankovitch as a coach.  
  
How did Harry find out? Well, the letters.  
  
He knew that if Hermione found out that he’s been stalking Malfoy again she’d scold him. She’d be even more annoying if she’d found out that Harry’s been looking at Malfoy’s mail and checking every single corresponding detail on the letters.  
  
It was like clockwork, Malfoy would get a letter every Friday with a small care package of candies and toffee with a bar of soap and some muggle cologne, usually it would have a flag of a country folded inside of it, and for some reason Malfoy would smile and put the flags in his trunk before sharing the toffee with Theo and eating one of the candies he’s given.  
  
He initially thought that it was from his parents, or at least someone who’s courting him, but then he tracked the sender.  
  
Aleksey Brankovitch. Canadian brother of Maximus Brankovitch, who plays for the American national team. Alex himself used to play for the Canadian team, but retired after realising that his connection with emotions and sexual fluidity was a problem in the eyes of Quidditch fans, he retired and started coaching Draco Malfoy. His brother became an international superstar with his lavish lifestyle, playing Seeker for both the National Team and the Fitchburg Finches. Aleksey was younger then Maximus by only three years, as he was scouted into the Canadian National Team at the age of 19 as Chaser and reserve Seeker, but he was much better than Maximus, judging by the tapes of his game play and movement.  
  
He does Wizarding figure skating, now, he heard he was doing pair skate with a really attractive woman.  
  
And three, Draco Malfoy loved someone, someone he knew that he’ll never have.  
  
Harry sighed. He wished it was someone he knew.  
  
He wished it was him.  
  
-  
  
On the third to last game of their first season, Alex decided to come. He had an atrocious blue hoodie with the Falcons’ logo on it, which made Draco cringe all the way to the sun. It clashed with his bright pink hair, which somehow he got away with when he did Wizards’ Ice Skating.  
  
They were playing against Ginevra’s team, which made him quite nervous because she’s become more skilled over the past couple of years. Alex knows this, so he walked into the changing room to give him a hug. Draco liked his hugs, and Alex always smells like those really strong muggle colognes. He liked those.  
  
“You can do it, Zmey, I believe in you,” Alex kissed the top of his head.  
  
“You can call me by my real name, Lex, I believe in you,” he joked automatically, immediately regretting it as soon as everyone laid eyes on him and his former coach.  
  
He didn’t need them thinking things that weren't true.  
  
Also Alex is way older than he is. Even though he’s bloody attractive, he’d rather not.  
  
“I-Erm,” Draco stammered.  
  
“It’s okay,” Alex laughed, “I’m Canadian, folks, we’re extra touchy-feely, nothing to see here.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Draco muttered.  
  
Alex smacked his shoulder, “That’s not a polite way to speak to your legal guardian.”  
  
“I”m 18.”  
  
“You’re still my baby to me,” Alex grinned, “I remember when you were still a tiny 11 year old, wobbling on your first broom the summer before your pop shipped you to Hogwarts.”  
  
“Brankovitch! Stop!”  
  
“No way, Malfoy, your mom and dad are in Azkaban. Who else is gonna be embarrassing and overwhelming if I’m not here to be embarrassing and overwhelming?” Alex messed up his perfectly coiffed hair.  
  
Draco hated this, but he liked that at least he had someone who cared about him. Alex used to be his coach, and he used to be there because his father paid him a ridiculous amount of money to do so. When his parents got into Azkaban, he thought that Alex would be gone for good. He thought he was going to lose the man he thought of as an older brother for years and years of his childhood life. Granted, Alex was never marked, because the Dark Lord didn’t know about his existence up until Draco had to be marked and Alex was used against him. It was either not be marked or get the older man killed. He chose the former to save him, and his family, of course, the Dark Lord wanted to kill his mother as well, just in case threatening to kill his Quidditch coach wasn’t enough.  
  
But when Alex told him that he asked Lucius if he could apply to be Draco’s legal guardian before Draco turned 18, he was overjoyed. The first time after a long time, he was happy. He had someone who wanted him, despite all his flaws. Pansy used to only want him because of his status in the hierarchy, Crabbe and Goyle were there because they needed someone to lead them. Alex was there because he wanted to be, not because he had to or wanted something from Draco.  
  
Everything was fine until he saw Potter’s smug face.  
  
“Good luck,” he grinned.  
  
-  
  
They were on the pitch. Everything was blurry.  
  
Draco couldn’t focus. Maybe it was a mixture of the horrible eyesight charm that Alex half-arsed that had to be taken out and replaced by muggle contacts that’s messing with his vision. Maybe it was the fact that all the people were cheering Potter’s name. Maybe it was because Alex was here, sitting proudly next to Slughorn in the teacher’s box with his atrocious hoodie and atrocious hair with that stupid undercut that did not look as good as he might have intended it to.  
  
Maybe it was because he’s self sabotage and he doesn’t have enough rage and will to prove anything since his last game with Potter in the friendly A/B qualification round.  
  
Maybe it was because of Potter’s emerald green eyes, staring straight into Ginevra’s blue ones before lightly kissing her cheek right before they left.  
  
He thought he was over his petty crush on Potter. He thought maybe, just maybe, he’s gotten over his stupid, silly little dopey happiness whenever Potter lets out a small smile. Harry smiled right after, which made him very happy inside. So happy that he got distracted, and the moment they released the Snitch, he didn’t notice.  
  
Potter did, however.  
  
The Hawks won that day.  
  
-  
  
Draco Malfoy stopped playing Quidditch after the disappointing loss of the Hogwarts Falcons in their first season quarter-finals. He didn’t even come to practice, as he’s trying so hard to write a formal resignation letter to give to Rivers. He’s sure their reserve seeker could manage.  
  
School was back to normal, with McGonagall’s miniature Quidditch Premier League coming to an end, everyone was no longer interested. His performance caused a stir, of course, as the school newspaper reported his every single match and theorised that the only way he’d lose was if he’d broken several bones. The semifinals were in a week.  
  
Alex hugged him after the quarters, telling him that everything will be alright.  
  
Alex doesn’t know anything.  
  
He expected a large crowd of people to hate him after that.  
  
He didn’t expect to see Harry Potter sit down right across from him, though, never in a million years.  
  
“What do you want, Potter?”  
  
“An explanation,” he said, “You did so well in this season, what threw you off guard? The snitch was right in front of you.”  
  
_You loved her. You loved her more than anything, so much that you don’t notice how I feel about you, and how much it hurts me that you will never know._ “Nothing.”  
  
“This isn’t like you, Malfoy,” he said, “You’re one of the best Seekers of Hogwarts! In the quarters you just… gave up.”  
  
“Well, you got your wish, didn’t you?” Draco laughed bitterly, “Now you can play against your girlfriend in the finals and win the last Quidditch cup. I heard there’s gonna be Puddlemore, Kestrals, and the Arrows there to judge your performance so you can get scouted and be the Wizarding World’s Golden boy yet again.”  
  
“Ginny’s not my girlfriend,” Potter sighed, “Not anymore, at least.”  
  
Draco scoffed.  
  
-  
  
His amortentia still smells like treacle tart and broom polish, and he hated it. He wished it smelled like something else.  
  
He bets Theo’s still smell like Rivers’ cologne. The musky, forest scent that lingers in the changing room as the brunet walks around topless after he sprays the entirety of the expensive muggle brand all over his toned chest. Theo’s been crushing on Oliver Rivers for as long as forever, however it will never be requited as Rivers was a heterosexual with a girlfriend. Draco recalled that she was here on the day that Draco fucked up, and she kissed Rivers in the changing room right before the walked out into the pitch.  
  
He bets Blaise’s still smell like Naomi from the year below. Draco has no idea why he recognised the scent. It was sweet, like the scented candles Mum used to formulate with the help of Winky the house elf.  
  
But his still smelled like treacle tart, with a dash of freshly cut grass and broom polish. He wished Potter had a thing for cologne, because at least his amortentia would smell just as good as Theo describes his.  
  
When brewing, he thinks of his late Uncle Severus, Father’s dearest friend.  
  
When brewing, he thinks of the softness of Potter’s jet black hair.  
  
-  
  
Alex sent him a wizarding photo.  
  
His hair was green.  
  
-  
  
Rivers looked for him.  
  
He hid in the hidden room inside of the astronomy tower.  
  
-  
  
Oliver Rivers is a terrifying young man. His dark hair and stark greenish-hazel eyes looked extra terrifying when he’s seeing red.  
  
News spread that Draco Malfoy has ‘formally resigned’ from the Hogwarts Falcons, some speculate it was because he was failing Defence.  
  
But what does this have to do with Harry?  
  
Well, everything had to do with Harry.  
  
Harry Potter is incredibly stupid and oblivious.  
  
Maybe that’s why Ginny dumped him that day he lost to Malfoy.  
  
“Are you responsible for this, Potter?” Rivers grumbled angrily, “Dear Mr Rivers, I would like to politely inform you with this letter that I will be resigning from my position as Seeker of the Hogwarts Falcons.”  
  
Harry shrugged, “All I did was give him stuff, I didn’t-“  
  
Rivers groaned, “Did you not hear from me that Draco Malfoy is a fragile soul that should not be toyed with like that?!” he asked, “I needed him! He’s the best Seeker in Hogwarts!”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Fuck you, I refuse to take that back just because it’s the norm to kiss your arse,” Rivers retorted, “Fix this.”  
  
Harry would love to, he’s seen Malfoy play, and he was passionate about the game. The boy has been training since he was 11. If he didn’t fuck up, he would’ve played for Puddlemore, his favourite Quidditch team.  
  
What happened after was horrific.  
  
Draco deserved this.  
  
Draco Malfoy deserved Quidditch more than anyone.  
  
-  
  
Harry talked to Rolfe, and if he didn’t, he probably would never have thought of a better way to fix Malfoy.  
  
Ron hated that Theo was mopey because Draco keeps hiding and had stopped feeding the brunet toffee, so he told Harry that Draco was failing Defence and is looking for a study partner. So, he went to their new professor, Professor Adam ‘Call Me Rolfe’ Rolfeus.  
  
-  
  
His defence professor looked at him straight in the eyes, those piercing light caramel hues looking straight into Draco’s grey ones. Professor Rolfeus ‘Call Me Rolfe’ had the most intimidating warm caramel hues Draco has ever seen, additionally, the man was a former member of the Australian Wizarding Law Enforcement, which made him even more scarier than their old defence professors.  
  
All the deadly animals are from Australia.  
  
“Mr Malfoy, I told you if you did not get your grade up, I’m assigning you with Mr Potter for extra tutoring,” he sighed, “Your last three essays are on a level ’T’, and your highest grade in my class is a ‘P’.”  
  
“I’ve been working really hard-“  
  
“I’m afraid you’re not working hard enough,” the man sighed, “I understand that you spent two years away from school prior to returning as an eighth year, but I’ve seen your other grades, and you’re getting O’s on Potions and Ancient Runes. You have an E on Charms and you had an O on your Defence O.W.L, what happened?”  
  
Draco couldn’t answer that. He can’t. The man doesn’t-  
  
“Look, Draco, can I call you Draco?” the blond nodded, “You’re a fantastic student. I read some of your essays and they’re passable but are written with such incredible language that you’d think you’re reading some kind of descriptive prose. But that’s not how you write essays. Your practical work are sloppy at best, and even after nearly one semester, you still can’t produce a patronus.”  
  
_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Please, anyone but Potter._  
  
“Harry has teaching experience, and if I weren't incredibly busy trying to fix this bloody school’s defensive spells I’d be happy to give you extra tutoring time,” he sighed, “I have faith that you can do better.”  
  
-  
  
Quidditch was postponed until further notice due to all the drama. Well, not really, it was mostly because Harry told Professor McGonagall that he’s broken Draco Malfoy. He got a smack in the face that day, it was awful but she understood.  
  
Everyone else thought it was unfair. They were excited to see the Wizarding World’s golden boy get scouted into a Professional Team, after rumours spread that Puddlemore United, Ballycastle Bats, and Falmouth Falcons would be present.  
  
Ginevra Weasley’s already been scouted to the Harpies.  
  
Harry decided that these last two months of the semester should be different. He’s been assigned to Draco Malfoy as a tutor by Professor Rolfe, and he intends to take it seriously.  
  
Even though he’s never noticed how silver reflected onto Malfoy’s eyes whenever he tilted slightly sideways towards the sun. Sometimes it would look holographic due to his glasses. Harry got lost, counting the small, intricate blues that splattered on Malfoy’s irises, hidden behind the which frames of his slightly dirty lenses.  
  
“Tergeo,” Harry whispered, pointing his wand on Malfoy’s delicate frames. Malfoy blinked.  
  
“Potter. Focus.”  
  
“Sorry, I got lost in your eyes,” he said truthfully, “I thought they were blue for so long.”  
  
Malfoy looked uncomfortable. Harry cleared his throat.  
  
“Rolfe told us to start on Patronus since it’s the one you’re struggling with the most?”  
  
-  
  
The only reason why Draco Malfoy is struggling with Defence Against the Dark Arts was the new curriculum issued after the war. He was fine with the old one, granted the subject itself was made piss easy so everyone could pass, but hard enough so only few could become Aurors. The new curriculum added defensive charms such as the Patronus Charm, and advanced duelling techniques, due to the lack of Aurors caused by the many deaths of the war.  
  
Draco didn’t want to be an Auror. He wanted to be a Healer, maybe a Potions Master if no hospital wants to take him. He did want to play Professional Quidditch, but everyone knows that will never happen, especially after his downfall.  
  
Healer or Potions Master has always been his backup.  
  
“You’re focusing on something else, I told you to focus on your happiest memory,” Potter groaned.  
  
What was his happiest memory?  
  
Was it learning how to fly for the first time? Was it realising that he maybe could move on from Potter with Stephen Cornfoot? Was it meeting Alex for the first time? Or was it that time Alex taught him how to ice skate and shared his other passion with the broken, abandoned Malfoy heir?  
  
“Let’s take a break, yeah?” Potter said, finally giving up, “What about we work on your essay technique?”  
  
Draco sighed, whatever.  
  
-  
  
Tutoring Draco Malfoy has made Harry Potter realise that he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to push him against the wall and plant a soft one on him, or maybe a hard one, who knows.  
  
He wanted to taste the feel of Malfoy’s tongue on his, he bets it tastes like Lemon Drops, considering how much Malfoy eats those sweets throughout the day. He wanted to make him sweat, squirm, cry, and scream his name in a euphoria, and just when he thought he was over his horny teenaged fantasies, Malfoy bites the side of his lip.  
  
It infuriated him how much Malfoy aroused him, so much that he had to will his boner to go down.  
  
His heart started beating faster and faster as Malfoy’s long fingers glided across the paper, his quill scribbling his essay with his stupidly neat cursive writing. It was awful. It was great.  
  
Malfoy handed him the essay about 10 minutes later, and Harry highlighted some of the parts that needed fixing. His writing felt like fluid, it read so nicely in his head that he’d forgotten that most of the contents of the essay is rather sub par. It was an opposite of Ron’s, as the language was not as wax-poetic, but the content is still there.  
  
“Fix your topic statement on defensive spells, it does not correlate to your thesis and it’s very vague,” Harry pointed out.  
  
Malfoy nodded, before spelling away his paragraph and starting over.  
  
To be fair, the paragraph wasn’t that bad, it just needed some minor tweaking, but he wanted to stay with Malfoy for a little longer. He wanted his presence to linger, he wanted to be in close proximity to him. He wanted to feel Malfoy’s euphoric tension as they-  
  
“Is this okay?”  
  
Harry couldn’t lie. It was much better.  
  
-  
  
Professor Rolfe smiled when he handed him back his essay. He got an E.  
  
-  
  
Draco liked to wonder around, mostly in places people will never think to look for him.  
  
He loved the Astronomy Tower, because people knows Dumbledore died there, and there was no way Malfoy would go back to the place he committed the heinous crime. He loved going there at night, when the stars are in full view and he could see the constellations.  
  
Sometimes he’d see Gemini and remember Castor and Pollux.  
  
It was the names his mother wanted to give the twins. Tears were shed when the Dark Lord twisted their heartbeats into the crimson suffering that lead his mother to anxiety. He feels like he’d love them, and they’d be an addition to their broken little family, the little bundles of joy that would save the House of Malfoy from complete destruction.  
  
He wondered what life would be with them around.  
  
Sometimes he’d see Andromeda and Orion and remember his two Aunts. The lovely Aunty Andy and Aunty Bella. He remembered before Aunty Bella became what she is. She was lovely when Draco was younger, always showering him with gifts and love, and Uncle Roddy would tell him lovely tales of the wizarding world. When the Dark Lord rose into power, they lost themselves. No longer were they Aunty Bella and Uncle Roddy, they changed to Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Rodolphus, sometimes Mr Lestrange. He’s never met Aunty Andy in real life before, but when he was younger, his mother would sneak her birthday presents onto Draco’s pile, and he’s always loved the sweaters she’d send him. Most of them were too big, but they were nice to wear in bed.  
  
Of course, his father never knew.  
  
Sometimes he’d see Leo and think of his mother’s cousins, Sirius and Regulus. Mother told him that the boys have always been nice to her, even Sirius, who would always cause mischief in the Black household. He despised it when his mother asked him to be more like Cissy, the good, pretty little girl, only because he knew he can never truly be a good boy. Regulus was smart, he always has been. Draco remembered finding his journal in his attic and honoured the man for calculating his every move.  
  
Sometimes he’d notice the pitch, for a change, he used to see shadows of the two ex-captains together. Wood and Flint. He remembered their secret friendship, and how Wood would laugh every time Flint complained about him. He wished he had something like they did.  
  
Draco loved to wander around, mostly to places where no one-  
  
“Malfoy?”  
  
-  
  
Their eyes met.  
  
Draco’s silver with Rivers’ greenish-hazel, the other looked relieved, while the other looked terrified. Rivers slowly walked towards the stricken boy and stood beside him as he looked at the stars.  
  
“The rumours are true, y’know,” Rivers said, “The teams were coming in for our final match.”  
  
Draco froze, unsure of what to do.  
  
“I know about what happened with Puddlemore,” Rivers explained, “I know that they nearly scouted you at 15, and said they’ll be open to taking you in if you ever change your mind. I know that it crushed you when they withdrew their offer,” Rivers sighed, “Granted, I am your captain, and McGonagall gave me your records when I told her I wanted you on my team.”  
  
_Wait,_ “Didn’t McGonagall assign me to the team?”  
  
Rivers chuckled, “I traded Weasley for you, Ginevra Weasley. All she had to do was sign the papers and she could get into the Harpies without tryouts. I never liked the way she played, she was never as fluid as you were, like you owned the stars and skies. You commanded the wind without changing the flow, and it’s always stunning to watch.”  
  
Draco’s eyes watered.  
  
“I’m asking you, as the captain of the Hogwarts Falcons, will you please come back and play seeker?”  
  
Draco smiled.  
  
Someone did believe in him.  
  
-  
  
Draco sat down on the benches during the semis, watching Potter play against the other team to qualify for the Finals. He saw a couple of representatives there, kind of reminded him of when he was about to be scouted. Reps watching how he played on one game and coming to him three games later to tell him that all he had to do was sign papers and he’ll be in the league. It was always like that.  
  
He noted that the brunet was a great leader, showing great respect to his team while guiding them to possible victory. They were winning 30-15, but if the other team catches the Snitch, Potter’s leadership tactic might go horribly wrong.  
  
Sometimes he’d wondered what would happen if he didn’t say no to Rivers that day in the Observatory room in the Astronomy Tower, but then again, he knew that there was no way he could do that again.  
  
They were playing against Falcons again, for some reason, maybe it’s because McGonagall thought it was unfair that Draco did not even try to catch the Snitch that time. Rivers had their reserve seeker fill in, and even though she was good, she was no match against Potter.  
  
Potter might have noticed the representatives too, because what he did before they released the Snitch was incredibly foolish and out of the line.  
  
-  
  
Harry requested a time-out and the team all got a break for about 20 minutes before they had to continue on playing. Rivers hated him for that, even more because he managed to fuck up the grand return of Draco Malfoy into the Falcons after his overtly sappy speech while he was talking to Draco polyjuiced as Rivers.  
  
He knew it was going to bite him in the arse one day, and he was right. Malfoy didn’t go back to Quidditch, Oliver Rivers hated him, and he was about to be scouted by Quidditch teams that got blinded by Draco Malfoy’s past that they didn’t care that Malfoy played like he owned the bloody pitch.  
  
He decided to make one of the worst decisions in his life by possibly ruining his career in Quidditch for one person who deserved it the most.  
  
Maybe it was the love potion-anxiety medication his Healer prescribed for his post war anxiety, maybe it was because in the back of his mind he knew that he loved Draco Malfoy and wanted him to at least have something that he truly deserved.  
  
Hopefully it wasn’t too late to realise that.  
  
-  
  
Draco didn’t notice Potter’s appearance next to him in the benches, it took him by surprise, much like how everything else went down after  
  
“How’s the match so far?” Potter asked with a stupid smile on his face, “Kind of disappointed that you’re not there with me on the pitch.”  
  
Draco shrugged, “It’s alright, Puddlemore’s rep is the nicest out of all the bunch to your face, by the way, make sure you know that before you sign with them.”  
  
Potter laughed, “I don’t deserve this, honestly,” he smiled to himself, “And I can think of one person who does.”  
  
Draco scoffed, “Ginevra’s already with the Harpies.”  
  
Potter shook his head, “No, not Gin, someone else,” he sighed, “I’m going to ask you something, it’s really important and I would like it very much if you said yes.”  
  
Potter paused and took a deep breath.  
  
“Can I kiss you?”  
  
-  
  
He gave specific instructions to Ron that he wanted Malfoy to replace him as Seeker just in case he gets injured in this game. He didn’t exactly tell Ron that he would actually deliberately chase the Bludger just so he could get out and get Malfoy to play.  
  
So when the Bludger hit him in full speed, Harry smiled and thought of all the Snitches Malfoy had given up to make him smile.  
  
-  
  
Everything went to slow motion after that, and Draco was surprised to see Ron and Rivers drag him to the changing room just so they could forcefully our Potter’s uniform on him and make him fly.  
  
Draco was reluctant.  
  
“Harry gave us specific instructions to force you to do this.”  
  
He obliged.  
  
They won within the next 20 minutes.  
  
-  
  
They were on the prophet. Front page, the photo of Harry leaning in to kiss him on the benches played on a loop with the large headline saying ‘Potter-Malfoy Conspiracy?!’.  
  
Draco hated it, but he didn’t mind. Alex did, though, judging by the howler he’d sent after seeing ‘his Zmey' on the cover of the Prophet lip locked with the famous Harry Potter. It was odd, really considering they didn't really show any form of flirting or affection throughout the course of the year.  
  
“We’re on the Prophet,” Harry chuckled, “Just because I gave up professional Quidditch for a person who deserved it more than I did.”  
  
Draco raised his eyebrow, “No, it was because of the kissing.”  
  
Harry smiled, “And that. Really sorry about that. I had a few drops of Adfectus Potion before I walked into the pitch. Doctor’s orders.”  
  
“You had-“  
  
“Adfectus, yes, a love potion,” Harry sighed, “But please don’t react badly, I can explain.”  
  
“You did something completely insane for me under the influence of a love potion.”  
  
Draco’s face hardened before his eyes, and before he could say anything, he left.  
  
-  
  
Adfectus was different than amortentia, but the premise of it was the same. The drinker takes the potion to feel a stronger connection with the person they truly desire. Some new aged Healers have tried to use it to enhance positive emotions in order to treat anxiety and PTSD from the war, but Draco knew what that potion was for.  
  
It was made as a guide to make a person aware of their feelings, but it also clouded their judgements, and one day, when the potion wears off, the drinker might regret the thing that they have done before, and it was only supposed to be used in moderation when used to treat mental trauma. It makes you aware of the little details of the person your brain programmes you to have strong feelings for, and instead of making you obsessed with the person like Amortentia does, it enhances your preexisting feelings by making you do things you might strongly regret after.  
  
Draco’s seen multiple people use it before.  
  
Uncle Roddy was one of them. He became addicted to the point where he lost himself after he lost his dear Bella to the Dark Lord. He tried everything to win her back. His heart was lost in the cycle of regret after his silly attempts to win her back. The last one being the day he got marked.  
  
Uncle Roddy because Uncle Rodolphus, sometimes Mr Lestrange or Sir if he misbehaved.  
  
Tears began to fall from his silver orbs, and before he knew it, white vapour began to seep out from his hands, and a near-transparent corporal form sat by him as he cried.  
  
It was a stag.  
  
-  
  
Everything continued on like a blur.  
  
Potter tried multiple times to talk to him, and it got worse after he got transferred back to the Falcons and lead them to victory after three more extra matches because of the drama that happened with the teams. Per request by Potter himself.  
  
On their tutoring sessions, Draco would try to make sure they don’t deviate away from the subject, and leave before Potter could say a word about anything.  
  
That paid off, because Professor Rolfeus ‘Call me Rolfe’ gave Draco a pat in the back for his N.E.W.T results, as he’d managed to get an O on his written exam and E on his practical. He got mostly O’s and E’s on his exams, which secured him his position for Healer Training in St. Mungo’s. That excited him. Sort of.  
  
But nothing compared to the two letters that he’d received on the stack of papers and results on his results day.  
  
_Dear Mr Malfoy,_  
  
_We would like to inform you that you have been selected as future Seeker for our team. We understand that you are considering Healer training as a possible career for your foreseeable future, but if you were to consider our offer and still would like to continue on that career path, we would gladly negotiate hours for you to be able to be a part of our team and still be able to train for your future in Wizarding Medicine._  
  
_Your talent as a Seeker has given us drive to fight for you to be on our team._  
  
Draco was elated.  
  
-  
  
It was the end of the school year and Alex decided to finally show his face after his attempt to comfort Draco in the quarter finals. He was strangely happy, and for some reason he hated it.  
  
His hair was back to its natural colour, and he was hugging Draco like it was the end of the world, his eyes tearing as he shook Draco’s body with all the might in his tall, lean built.  
  
“I got an Owl from the Arrows asking for your training history!” Alex squealed, excited, “I can’t believe it! _Malen’kaya zmeya!_ You know what this means, right?”  
  
Of course he knew what this means.  
  
Puddlemore and Arrows had decided to scout him, Puddlemore for the second time and Arrows for the first time. Granted, he knew that the former was just bitter that they didn’t get to see Potter play because his stupid intoxicated brain decided that getting hit by a bludger was good enough sacrifice for a person he has strong feelings for. He knew that the rep was different, because if it was the same as last time, they would have straight up repealed the suggestion of Draco Malfoy being scouted again.  
  
While reading the letters, he smiled. It was like that day when he read the letters from Puddlemore many years ago, the one his father made him discard because he needed to secure his future as a ministry man, to repair the Malfoy name as it is his destiny.  
  
He accepted the Arrows, because fuck Puddlemore. They already have Oliver Wood, which they are obviously wasting because that bloke is an amazing keeper. He remembered Theo briefly talking about him at one point, gushing on how nice and handsome he is. He wished Theo would stop with his infatuation with athletes that wont care about him.  
  
“I am so proud of you. Heck, I’m even prouder of Potter, he took a bludger for you, man, a bludger. Did you say thanks?”  
  
Draco sighed, but before he could answer, Potter did for him.  
  
“No, he didn’t,” Potter laughed, slightly, “Hi, I’m Harry.”  
  
“I know, we’ve met,” Alex grinned, “Aleksey Brankovitch.”  
  
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr Brankovitch.”  
  
“Please, Mr Brankovitch is my egotistical brother, call me Alex.”  
  
Harry looked awful. He had bags under his deep, green eyes and his hair was messier than it was before. He had a cast on his leg, which lowered his mobility a little bit so he has to walk slowly and carefully while aided with a little bit of magic.  
  
“Is it okay if I talk to Draco?”  
  
Alex looked at Draco and blatantly ignored his mental signal that said ‘please don’t leave us alone.’  
  
“Sorry, Zmey, gotta go to the washroom,” Alex grinned, “You can have him until I get back, since I promised to drag his party pooper ass to spend in Alberta with my family.”  
  
-  
  
The two boys sat by the tree near the lake, and with great difficulty Draco managed to guide Harry into the correct spot so he doesn’t injure himself even more. He’d rather not have people murder him.  
  
Draco enjoyed the silence and the wind, it reminded him of the days when his parents were still there in the manor, bickering while Alex enjoyed Winky’s homemade oatmeal.  
  
“I can’t believe Pomfrey wont let me get out of this stupid cast, my leg’s been healed for a couple months now.”  
  
Draco shrugged, “I think it’s your t-tendons.”  
  
“I sprained my leg, big deal,” Harry scoffed, “But you, you got into professional quidditch.”  
  
Draco smiled, “Yes, I did.”  
  
“Also healer training, which is weird because I thought you’d be fine with just being the greatest seeker in the world. Don’t need to save lives as well.”  
  
“I can’t be a seeker forever, though,” Draco said, “And you’re going to Auror training, right?”  
  
“Yep,” Harry popped, “You never let me explain-“  
  
“Don’t bother,” the blond answered, “The Adfectus clouded your judgement as your brain is preprogrammed to strongly dislike me.”  
  
Harry shook his head, “No, Malfoy, the Adfectus didn’t do anything. It has no full effects if you take it in moderated doses,” he turned his head to look at the blond, “I thought you wanted to be a healer, shouldn’t you know that three drops can be used to treat severe anxiety and PTSD?”  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
“Well, after the war, I went to a healer and they prescribed me with it. Three drops. Six months. I didn’t take the bludger because I was under the influence, I took it because I loved you and I wanted you to have something that you really wanted, especially after noticing the carved golden snitch you had that day I caught you playing with it in the pitch.”  
  
Draco’s eyes widened.  
  
“Kind of sad that you didn’t take Puddlemore.”  
  
Draco chuckled, “They’re awful, I’d rather not go with the team that rejected me because of my past.”  
  
“Kind of sad that the first time we’re having an adult conversation is going to be the last time we see each other,” Harry smiled, “Wish we’d talked about this sooner, could’ve had some fun times in the dark corners of the school.”  
  
Draco shrugged, “We can make it work, I guess, I don’t know, you took a bludger for me, the least I can do I try.”  
  
“Try what?”  
  
“Try this,” Draco interlaced his hand with Harry’s free one, “A relationship, a friendship, I don’t know, whatever this is.”  
  
Harry smiled. Finally something worth losing for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments, kudos, messages, anything is appreciated!
> 
> Zmey is dragon in slavic Mythology
> 
> Malen’kaya zmeya! - directly translates to 'My little snake', but is kind of used as a way of saying 'my little dragon'.
> 
> I don't speak Russian so if the translations are wrong I deeply apologise.
> 
> Adfectus is not a real canon potion, but in here it's a love potion that doubles as medication for anxiety and ptsd which strengtens feeling of positive emotions. Adfectus directly translates to emotion in latin.
> 
> I was also thinking of doing followups for this but maybe shorter ones but I dunno. let me know if that's a good idea and I might do it!

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudos, messages, anything is appreciated!
> 
> Zmey is dragon in slavic Mythology
> 
> Malen’kaya zmeya! - directly translates to 'My little snake', but is kind of used as a way of saying 'my little dragon'.
> 
> I don't speak Russian so if the translations are wrong I deeply apologise.
> 
> Adfectus is not a real canon potion, but in here it's a love potion that doubles as medication for anxiety and ptsd which strengtens feeling of positive emotions. Adfectus directly translates to emotion in latin.
> 
> I was also thinking of doing followups for this but maybe shorter ones but I dunno. let me know if that's a good idea and I might do it!


End file.
